


guns for hands

by eraleon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Dissociative Identity Disorder, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, RvB Angst War, Trans Character, Trans Tucker, Trans Washington, carwash siblings, i guess because of the cusp for the angst war and fluff war 8))), it gets better towards the end tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6626806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eraleon/pseuds/eraleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Washington is something akin to a fucking mess.</p><p>Lavernius Tucker is someone that just wants to fix a mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	guns for hands

Agent Washington was something akin to a _fucking mess_. He wasn't a _beautiful_ mess, not something _romanticised_ with every goddamned movie where the guy saves the girl from herself and she's eternally grateful once she realizes what he's done; He wasn't someone that needed to be saved. He was a Freelancer, but isn't that ironic? He hated that title with a passion enough to melt steel. He hated the Project, hated the Director, hated what they had done to him. Hated the days in captivity, the manipulation, the lies told to him, even in his weakest state --- They had managed to control him and bring him to his knees to an organization that had truly stripped him of all his possible humanity. He was someone that was violent, someone that was relatively ruthless, but his façade buried those old habits until they would have to be used for very specific situations. Washington had created another version of himself when he stepped foot on the Mother of Invention, burned himself down and out to revive himself to be the "rookie" Freelancer everyone managed to develop a soft spot for in the Project. 

He had become the clumsy, good-natured, witty guy that somehow, several people even fell for. Carolina treated him like she always had, as a bigger sibling, she was always proud of him. She always ruffled his hair, slapped him on the back with a laugh, rested a hand on his shoulder, and told him he was a good soldier. She reassured him. It was just like they were kids again whenever she was around. 

York became his boyfriend after a year. Soon after, the both of them dragged North in to it. Washington certainly never really expected for himself to get involved in a polyamory before, let alone out in bumblefuck space, but he couldn't really complain. Maine and Connie were his closest friends, they always had his back and always surprised him with the craziest shit they had to offer. In turn, Washington returned the gestures. South even fucked around with him and laughed and joked, adding a few gentler punches to the shoulder every once in a while. Wyoming treated him like a grandchild. Which, he supposes, would be the grandchild Wyoming never had --- But he was mistaken the first time Wyoming had told him about the grandchildren he had back on Earth. Washington often mused to himself over how proud the man clad in white had been over them. It was... Nice.

And then Epsilon happened, and his life turned to absolute hell. There were memories that ravaged his mind, there were nightmares that plagued and haunted him endlessly every night, and there was him waking, screaming into an abyss, never remembering who he exactly was. There was all the names, all the memories, _LeonardAllisonAvalonEpsilonAlphaDavidChurch_ and he just couldn't _remember_. He began to grow numb to memories entirely, until one day there wasn't any emotion to go along with it. He cut his hair, traced some scars that newly littered his face, once clear blue eyes turning into a stormy azure, never to return to the state in which they once were in. He clung to Texas's hoodie that she had given him long before like a lifeline, until he had decided to get rid of it entirely --- A dissociating state that he wouldn't quite ever return from.

Then the Project decided to let him go. Took him off the medication. Released him. 

The monster that they had stripped and replaced David Ashton Church into had become cold, detached, a stoic machine, purely meant for finishing orders and getting his revenge on the world and universe for what it had done to him. He was redacted, no more. Agent Washington now replaced the lovable man David Church used to be, Agent Washington was now something akin to a _fucking mess_. He was tearing apart at the seams, barely holding himself up to who stood now, and sometimes it became... Obvious. Apparently. 

Doc was the first person to find that out.

South Dakota didn't even notice. South Dakota teased him about it.

So she paid the price.

Doc was the first person to tell him how to deal with anxiety attacks. Doc was the first person that Agent Washington allowed to gently unclasp his seals, and ever so cautiously, ever so slowly, like he would kill the medic if he made one wrong move, and he lifted the helmet away. Brown eyes met blue, and Doc's heart immediately broke for his kidnapper. Agent Washington was just a man. Beneath that helmet, even when the Reds and Blues didn't think there was, _there was_ a man. A very broken, very saturated man. His eyes were dull and almost grey, scars scattered along his face, and circles so dark under his eyes that Doc knew right away the Freelancer never slept well. Doc was the first person that Agent Washington had cried on. Doc was the first person that Agent Washington had slowly, shakily held back after what seemed like an eternity.

Doc was the first person who gave Agent Washington _emotion_.

_"You're going to be okay."_

_"You'll get through this."_

_"You're so strong."_

_"You'll be okay."_

It was mantras in the rain, rain in a desert of all places, and Doc held Agent Washington, held him and gently massaged the back of his head when the man had completely broken down. When he had left the rain wash things away, clean the slate and allow for a better ending. He knew the Agent wouldn't just go back on every moral he had and every mission he had set out for, he knew Agent Washington would stumble and make mistakes, but somehow, Doc knew deep down that this would bring a turn to the path the other man had already carved out for himself. He knew that this, perhaps coupled with some kind of healing act would bring Agent Washington slowly back into existence. 

Back into emotion.

He had fought someone that was a shadow to his mother: Allison, who died so brutally that her family didn't even get to see her face. Allison, who had died in a place where she left her family and her three children by themselves, where Leonard had become increasingly absent. Allison, who haunted Agent Washington every waking moment, every moment he slipped into unconsciousness, and every moment in between. A woman who had somehow laced herself into his mind so deep that if he were to remove her, surely he would've ended up destroying himself in the process? 

And he won.

The Meta had killed her, or what was left of her.

And Agent Washington was faced with the harsh reality that she wouldn't be coming back this time. Allison and Agent Texas would be gone, just like the rest of his teammates. Just like the Meta, not too long after. It's after that that he's now recruited on to Blue team almost against his will, and while no one fully trusted him, he felt a certain sense of belonging. No matter how much he forced it down, how much he wanted to kill them from time to time, he found the urges becoming less and less until he found himself smiling without even knowing at their antics. Simmons slowly, ever so slowly began to warm up to him, Tucker threatened him with his life several times, but even he had warmed up to Agent Washington in no time.

With that would Agent Washington just become... Washington. Wash. They all started calling him Wash. Even Sarge. 

He hated being touched, hated it with every fiber of his being. They all knew this, especially after Grif had accidentally slapped his back and Agent Washington turned around and knocked him straight to the ground. It stripped some of the trust away, but it wasn't long until they realized it was just a reflex, and they would respect that reflex with keeping appropriate distances away from Wash. But somehow, it must've been the times that he woke up screaming, in tears, that Tucker came into the room and sometimes got Washington to snap out of his frenzied daze. It must've been how Tucker learned the hard way how violent Agent Washington could've gotten, and decided to spend his own time trying to come up with ways to safely get him back to stability. Or, anywhere closer to stability than the panic attacks that followed such nightmares. Yeah, it must've been that. The fact that Tucker had spent his own time trying to discretely fix Agent Washington. And he did it all with the touch of fingertips, the soft glow of his teal tattoos and sharp, almost neon ice blue eyes suddenly dimming down to a look that read _"Is this really okay?"_

It was the quiet night, Tucker in front of Washington, leaning on the bed with one arm, keeping a little bit of a distance from him, before reaching up ever so slowly to almost touch the other man, to help him ground himself into reality. But it wasn't without consent, it wasn't without his sharp eyes searching every corner of Washington's face for the glimmer of hesitation and/or discomfort from such proximity. And when nothing came, when there was such a small nod that he could've missed it had he not been watching the blond intently, that warm fingers met with cold and clammy skin. Met with scars, met with freckles splattered across his face, and perhaps Washington flinched --- Maybe once or twice he would, but Tucker would always break the contact when he did, gazing deep into his eyes until he deemed it would be okay to resume when the Freelancer calmed. 

Washington never really believed anyone could love a fucking mess like him. 

Tucker wanted nothing more than to love a fucking mess like Washington. To fix a fucking mess like Washington. 

That, no matter how many times he insisted to the sim trooper, Tucker refused to listen to him and let up on the whispers of compliments, on the gentleness of caressing his face and holding him and just letting him ground himself. He knew what anxiety attacks were like, he knew what waking up from nightmares were like, too. He didn't know the severity in Wash's case, but he knew. And where he knew, he also knew what he thought to himself on just what he wanted the most when no one was there. Caboose wasn't exactly one to help alleviate anxiety. The most he did was sleep through the entire ordeal. ( Was he some kind of rock? ) 

So when Tucker found himself being let in to Washington's personal space more and more until he was free to completely touch the man at his own leisure and not receive so much as a flinch anymore, he knew it was a good sign. 

Eventually the nights where Wash woke up screaming began to fade together, and they grew farther and farther apart in frequency. Tucker guessed he had something to do with it, until he completely agreed to stay one night when it got to the worst it was, when Washington had relapsed and broke down into an unraveling mess at the seams once more. He didn't scream as much, but his body was racked with tremors, tears fell in copious amounts, and he clung to anything like if he let go, he would surely fall into an abyss in his mind and never return from such a dark place. He would regress and relapse, and fall back into the same terrifying corner he had crawled out of because of Tucker, because of the Reds and Blues --- and the darker man just let Wash cling to him, returned the gesture, and lay down to let the blond curl on to his chest without hesitation. 

It damn near broke his heart to see such a strong man be reduced to nothing like this, and he was close to tears as well --- Had the conscious thought not've been to keep Washington grounded, and to be the stronger figure he needed so badly at that moment. And they stayed there, until Tucker agreed that he would continue to sleep with his best friend and make sure to chase away all of the dreams he could.

Then he found out about Washington's secret, and the fact that he wasn't really...

_"When the doctor saw me, they said it's a girl."_

And Tucker nearly cried right then and there again.

_"So I'm not alone, then?"_

It took a second for Wash to realize what Tucker's words had meant, in which it would dawn on his face and then he'd promptly pull the soldier clad in aqua into a tight embrace. 

He had believed he was truly alone in the fight within himself, that he was the only one going through such struggles and being in an army. That he had even conceived a child, had tried to play it off like it was some "weird as fuck" immaculate conception, biblical thing, and that it was fully possible, no matter what genitals. 

The Reds and Blues found out, regardless, and even with their undying support, ( and Caboose's blissful "If I don't understand it, I don't really care that much" ) Tucker still had managed to feel completely alone in such an internal fight. Washington wasn't too self conscious about such a fact in himself, and so, he was more than willing to lend the shorter man help when it came to something so personal, so close, so relatable. After all...

Tucker was the one who stayed by him, no matter what. 

And it wasn't long before, in the darkness of the bunk room in Armonia, that they had finally kissed.

And Agent Washington had become human once again.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr ( eraleon ) for more!
> 
> honestly though this was really fun to write? i do prose all the time but somehow this was just. so much better?  
> and the repetition of agent washington was no mistake, bc i think it's kind of? symbolism tbh, like. i think david's that guy before the project, the violent guy that makes pretty bad decisions but has a heart of semi pure gold, wash is the guy who drank soda through a curly straw and sucks with emotional shit, and agent washington is a stone cold, sociopathic machine
> 
> i really wanted to highlight that difference, so i hope i hit the mark well!
> 
> ( and also, the title is the song Guns For Hands by Twenty One Pilots!! it's really good and it kinda resonates w/ me and wash, so i recommend listening to it maybe ) 
> 
> thanks for reading! uvu


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